


Sweet Sixteen

by spencerlupi



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: Birthday, Birthday Party, Gen, Post-Spider-Man: Homecoming, Precious Peter Parker, Tony Stark Has A Heart
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-09
Updated: 2017-12-19
Packaged: 2019-02-12 09:48:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,637
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12956637
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spencerlupi/pseuds/spencerlupi
Summary: “Hey, maybe Mr. Stark will throw you a big party! I heard he does great parties.”“I’m not sure sixteenth birthday parties are really his area of expertise.”In which Tony Stark holds a party for Peter Parker's sixteenth birthday.





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tagging is evil and I don't know how to do it properly on here.

Peter’s legs dangled over the edge of the skyscraper, swinging back and forth out of habit. He let out a deep sigh. 

“I know, Ned,” he replied to his friend, fidgeting with his web-shooters as he spoke. “It’s okay, you don’t have to apologize for not being here.”

“But it’s your birthday!” Ned practically whined back; he seemed more upset about missing Peter’s birthday than even Peter did. “I feel like a bad friend.” His voice rang so clear inside the suit’s mask that it felt like he was right next to Peter.

Peter let out a strained chuckle. “You’re not a bad friend. You’re having fun on vacation, it’s okay.” He rolled a small pebble around under his finger, waiting for his friend’s reply. 

Ned huffed on the other end. “Fine,” he said at last. “Hey, maybe Mr. Stark will throw you a big party! I heard he does great parties.” In his mind, Peter could see the way Ned’s face would have lit up as he imagined what kind of party Tony Stark would throw for Peter’s birthday. 

“I’m not sure sixteenth birthday parties are really his area of expertise.” But a warm laugh escaped Peter at the thought of Mr. Stark blowing up balloons and hanging streamers for his birthday. It was a nice thought, but unlikely.

“Well,” Ned continued, unperturbed, “you should bring it up anyway. You know he cares about you. He’d probably care about your birthday, even just a little.”

Peter was silent at that. Maybe Ned was right; after all, he was alone for this particular birthday, save for May, of course. Both Michelle and Ned had gone away for trips at the beginning of the summer, leaving Peter to his own devices in New York City. It would be nice to have his sixteenth birthday celebrated a little more beyond his aunt’s usual takeout and homemade cake. 

Ned’s voice broke through Peter’s reverie. “Are you driving with the top down?” he asked, even though he knew Peter didn’t — couldn’t — drive. “I think I can feel the wind ruffling my hair.”

“Oh,” Peter replied. “No, I’m sitting on top of a building.” He leaned over the edge, looking down at the ant-like people crawling along hundreds of feet below him. 

“Wow,” Ned breathed in amazement. “Your life is so cool, Peter.” Before Peter could respond, he heard Ned’s parents on the other end of the line. “Hey, I gotta split, but you should call me in a couple days. And!” He paused for effect, and Peter rolled his eyes. “Don’t forget to tell Mr. Stark about your birthday.”

“Okay, okay,” Peter said. “Bye, Ned.” The other boy hung up without replying, and Peter was back to sitting alone on a silent city rooftop.

Peter contemplated what Ned had said to him and decided that no matter how much he craved approval and attention from his mentor, he wasn’t going to bother the man with such a silly thing like his _birthday_. He’d rather eat a hundred of May’s leftover surprise casseroles than deal with the embarrassment of telling Tony Stark his birthday was approaching. 

“Hey Mr. Stark, it’s my birthday coming up,” Peter mumbled in a slightly higher, more mocking voice. “You probably wonder why I’m telling you — Tony Stark — this, but it’s because I’m alone this year and want your attention.”

Peter exhaled in disbelief. _Yeah, right_ , he thought to himself. Tony probably had a billion and a half things to do between this moment and Wednesday, Peter’s birthday, and Peter didn’t want to burden him further. 

He stood up and leaped off the edge of the building, swinging home for the night. Hopefully this week would pass quickly, he thought as he soared high above the city.

* * *

Tony was rummaging in the fridge, trying to find something even half edible, but it seemed impossible. Any food kept in there was old takeout or should have been dumped weeks ago. He finally settled on a small bag of baby carrots, kicking the fridge door shut as he went to sit at the island in the kitchen. 

“FRIDAY, what’s my week look like?” he pondered aloud, chewing on a carrot. 

“You have a security meeting tomorrow,” came the AI’s voice from all around him. “Peter Parker’s birthday on Wednesday, and the day after you have a meeting with Miss Potts.”

Tony continued to snack dutifully on his carrots, when something FRIDAY had said finally settled in. 

“Wait, what?” he asked. “What did you say?”

“I said,” FRIDAY began, and Tony could have sworn there was a slight edge to the AI’s voice, “you have a security meeting—”

“After that.” She was pulling him around, and they both knew it. If FRIDAY had a face, Tony knew it would be plastered with a smug smirk right about now.

“A meeting with Miss Potts on Thursday.”

“Dear God, I have a super intelligent AI and it’s _pulling my leg_?” Tony said to no one in particular, holding his bag of carrots out in exasperation. “Fri, please.”

“Peter Parker’s birthday is in two days,” she finally gave up, and Tony’s shoulders slumped as if weighed down by what she said. 

“How old is he turning? Thirteen?” a new voice asked. Natasha rounded the corner into the kitchen, approached Tony at the island, and snatched his bag of carrots out of his hand. He only frowned, unimpressed but not willing to pursue them.

“Uh, sixteen, I believe,” Tony responded. Natasha didn’t say anything as she chowed down on _Tony’s_ carrots. “Big year.”

Natasha shrugged. “I guess.” She bit down on another carrot. “What, are you going to throw him a party? I don’t think kids’ parties are quite your forte.” She raised a knowing eyebrow in his direction. 

Tony scoffed. “I could absolutely put on a birthday party for a _sixteen-_ year-old,” he said, providing emphasis on the _sixteen._ It couldn’t be that difficult, could it?

“Anyway, why do you care? It’s not like he’s your kid or anything.” Nat pushed herself away from the counter and walked to the refrigerator, opening it and immediately uttering a quiet foreign swear under her breath at seeing its depleted state. 

Before Tony could answer, she shut the door and turned around to face him, giving him a little start. “ _Is_ he? Your son?”

“God, Natasha,” he said, standing up and smoothing his shirt over his stomach. “No, of course not. He’s just a kid I pulled into this shitty world of ours, and I feel responsible for him. Plus,” he added, “he doesn’t have ... a lot. He deserves a good sixteenth birthday, I think.”

Natasha studied him for a few moments more, making him as uncomfortable as he could feel in his own house. She seemed to find what she was looking for after a bit, and moved away from the island at last. 

“Okay,” was all she said as she hopped up on the counter and stared at Tony from across the kitchen.

“Okay...? Okay what, exactly?” he asked, confused. He crossed his arms over his chest. 

“Okay, I’ll _help_ you, dumbass,” she laughed. “I have nothing going on. Might as well plan a kid’s birthday party to keep myself busy.”

Tony rolled his eyes. Suppose it was official at that point: he was going to put on some kind of celebration for Peter Parker’s sixteenth birthday. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (I usually ramble in the ANs so I'll try not to this time.) This is 1) my first posted fic in over a year, and 2) my first ever Marvel fic! 
> 
> In the MCU Peter's birthday is between January 1 and June 23 but I'm kind of taking liberties and pushing it a _little_ further into the summer, like closer to the middle of July maybe? It's the only way this could've worked.
> 
> I hope it's decent!! You can hit me up on tumblr [right over here](https://rotjluke.tumblr.com/). I love prompts and requests!
> 
> Anyway thanks and enjoy!!


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony and Nat discuss plans for Peter's birthday.

Tony leaned back in his chair, slipping the capped end of his pen between his teeth and staring off somewhere much farther away than the room he was in. He squinted his eyes in concentration.

The only thing on his mind at that moment — and he couldn’t believe he was thinking this — was the planning of the surprise birthday party he was going to hold for Peter tomorrow afternoon. If he was being honest with himself (and Tony usually was these days), Natasha had been right: he had _no idea_ how to put on a teenager’s birthday party. Did they still like party games at Peter’s age?

 _This is ridiculous,_ Tony thought to himself, biting down on the pen cap with unnecessary force. On the one hand, he really wanted to make sure Peter knew that Tony was there for him, and _did_ care; that he could trust Tony, and all that parental nonsense Tony hadn’t been graced with during his own childhood. But on the other hand … well, maybe there wasn’t really an other hand in this situation, he realized. He just needed to do everything right.

Tony pulled out his phone, but was stopped when a voice snapped “ _Tony!_ ” He fumbled for a moment and looked up into the indignant face of Pepper Potts, staring down at him and looking like nothing less than a scolding mother.

“Have you heard _anything_ that’s been said the last ten minutes?” she asked, her voice noticeably less prickly now. She could tell when his mind was preoccupied with something (which was, admittedly, almost always), and knew there was no stopping him from being consumed by his own thoughts when apparently more pressing matters loomed near. 

At that moment, Tony remembered he was in a pretty important meeting, sitting at a large table with six other company bigwigs, and Pepper Potts. He could not, however, remember what the meeting was about. Something along the lines of … needing increased cyber security? He shrugged it off, smiling sweetly up at Pepper as an answer instead.

She only sighed. “Well, you can go, Tony. We’re almost done here anyway.” Pepper walked around the table and sat back in her seat, peering at Tony over a stack of papers.

Tony stood up from his seat and smoothed down his suit jacket. As he walked out the door, he said nonchalantly, “I’ll see you geezers later,” then continued down the hall to his office.

As he entered his office, Tony pulled his phone back out of his pocket and tapped out a quick text to Peter before discarding it on his desk and flopping on the couch nearby.

_me (3:38 PM): i need you to come by tomorrow afternoon to get your opinion on some schematics. happy will pick you up._

_spiderling (3:40 PM): Cool! Can’t wait._

“Peter said he can’t wait, boss,” FRIDAY said after Tony heard his phone buzz with a reply. He hummed in response.

Tony was just beginning to doze off on his couch until he heard his phone start buzzing up a storm on his desk. He let out an exasperated breath.

“FRIDAY,” he mumbled, not even opening his eyes.

“It’s Miss Romanoff, boss,” the AI responded. 

“Put her on speaker,” Tony said, and within moments Natasha was chatting his ear off through the speakerphone of his cell.

“Tony,” she began, “you know, Peter’s birthday is tomorrow, and we haven’t even started preparations. What kind of decorations are you going to put up? What about a cake? Have you even thought of—”

“I’m going to stop you right there, Nat,” Tony interrupted. “I figured that when _you_ signed on, _you_ would be the one to take the reins on all that junk.” Which wasn’t true at all, of course. Some small voice in the back of Tony’s mind kept nagging him to _make the party perfect_ , which apparently meant decorating his entire house for just one kid, as well as spend money on the most delicious birthday cake in New York City.

He heard Natasha swear in a language he wasn’t familiar with. “I mean, I’m honored, Tony, but it’s not like you gave me time to hire party planners or anything.” She paused, and Tony thought she was stifling a laugh. “Either way, I got it covered. Leave your house in my hands. So what are you going to—”

“Whoa, whoa.” Tony shot straight up on the couch and stared at his phone in disbelief as if Natasha could see him. “My entire house? In … your hands?”

Natasha only chuckled which didn’t help to ease the way Tony’s stomach was beginning to twist. “Yes. Seriously, though, stop interrupting me. Do you have any idea what you’re going to give the kid as a birthday present?”

Tony didn’t respond. The thought of getting Peter a present honestly hadn’t occurred to him until that very moment. It made sense, he thought; you gave presents at birthday parties, right? Why not give one to the kid he’d taken under his metaphorical, metal wing? The only problem was, he had no idea _what_ Peter liked. And he very well couldn’t just ask, lest he give away the whole plan.

He heard Natasha click her tongue in disapproval on the other end of the line. “I knew it,” she said. “You weren’t even going to get him anything. Poor kid. Dad throws him a party, but doesn’t even get him a present. It stings, Tony.” She sniffled mockingly.

“I just haven’t thought of anything yet!” Tony’s voice was a little higher than he would have liked it to be. “Wait, what did you call me?”

Natasha ignored Tony. “I’m sure whatever you get him will be the best present he’s received in his whole entire thirteen years,” she replied gently. He was certain he could hear the smirk in her voice.

“He’s sixteen,” was all Tony could muster as a response. He leaned back into the couch and dug the heels of his palms into his eyes.

“Don’t worry, Tony,” he heard Natasha saying over the pounding in his ears. “I got everything else covered. You just work on whatever gadget you’re going to make that kid as a present.”

He looked at his phone with a curious expression. “How do you know I’m going to make him something? Maybe I’ll just get him a gift card. A gift card says, _I know what you like, but I don’t want to enjoy it with you_. Eh? It’s the perfect present.”

“Because gift cards are for extended family members and people you don’t actually care about,” Natasha explained matter-of-factly.

Even though Natasha didn’t go into more detail about what she meant by that, Tony got the hint. _You don’t get a gift card for the kid you dragged into a battlefield,_ was what she was trying to say. The kid who stopped an entire cargoplane of your valuables from being stolen by a guy dressed as a bird.

“Okay, I’ll leave you alone to ponder that,” Natasha chirped. “I’ll see you later tonight. Bye-bye, tin man.” The line went dead before Tony could say anything.

“Tin man,” he repeated in a resigned whisper. “Okay.”

Tony stared at the ceiling and thought about everything Natasha had said. Building something would be easy, he could go home right now and hammer it out before the day was over, no problem. But then again, what kind of device could he possibly craft that would be suitable for a sixteenth birthday present? Most of what Tony created was to ease his own existence, or that of his teammates’—

He was absentmindedly fiddling with his wristwatch, sliding it back and forth on his wrist in anxious thought when it finally occurred to him. Tony shot up from the couch, nearly tripping over his own two feet, and snatched his phone from the desk before bounding out the office door. 

“Boss?” FRIDAY asked in Tony’s ear.

Tony mashed the down button on the elevator. “It’s fine, Fri,” he said, a smile breaking out on his face as he stepped inside and pushed the button for the garage. “I’ve just had an idea.”

* * *

Peter dragged himself out of his bed and stretched, hearing his joints pop and feeling aches from the previous night’s patrol through the city. It was nearly four-thirty in the afternoon, and Peter had been out until three in the morning, getting home just in time to slip into bed before May got up for work. He had heard her slowly push his door open shortly after crawling into bed, and, once satisfied that Peter was sound asleep and must have been for hours already, shut his door and got ready for work.

May had found out the truth about Peter’s internship with Tony Stark shortly after Homecoming in fall of last year when Peter had carelessly been standing in his room with the full Spider-Man suit on. His aunt hadn’t been too pleased.

She had given Mr. Stark a real earful, not having let him get a word in edgewise, and Peter had been surprised to see Mr. Stark neglect to respond with a snarky comment or two, as was his nature. He listened, apologized (pretty sincerely too, if Peter had any say), and looked every bit like a kicked puppy when he left their apartment, his tail tucked between his legs.

Peter, on the other hand, had been grounded indefinitely until she could work through her thoughts. He was just glad she hadn’t found out the truth about Germany. If this whole situation had been a disaster, he didn’t even want to know how May would have handled that news.

Luckily, she had worked out her thoughts in only a month and a half (not even his longest time being grounded!), and told him she only wanted him to be happy, and if this “internship” was the key, then so be it. But be home by eleven on school nights. She had even called Mr. Stark to apologize for nearly biting his head off, but he said he understood and there were no hard feelings.

Now that it was summer break, he had no curfew (or rather, May was much more relaxed about it, but still preferred he be home before the sun came up), and sometimes enjoyed hearing about Peter’s antics while patrolling. Of course, he only gave out the real mundane stuff, like helping cats down from trees and giving directions. He didn’t want to scare her too much.

Peter left his bedroom and saw May sitting at the kitchen table reading a book, her glasses perched delicately on the end of her nose. She looked up and smiled at him when he entered the room, setting the book down.

“I thought you’d never get out of bed,” she said fondly.

Peter yawned in response. Her fond smile turned into a gentle frown.

“Were you out terribly late last night? I checked before I went to work—” May began, but Peter cut her off.

“It’s okay, May, really,” he said. 

May’s frown deepened, but she went back to her book without saying anything. Peter turned to the cupboard and grabbed a glass before opening the refrigerator.

“I’m going to Mr. Stark’s tomorrow afternoon,” he said, taking the carton of juice out and pouring himself a glass. “He said he wants help with some schematics or something.”

Peter turned around to see May pursing her lips in thought. Even though she had made up with Mr. Stark and he had apologized as genuinely as possible, she still had her apprehensions about the man, as was her right. She knew, however, that no matter how much she tried to say no to Peter in situations like these, that he would always find a way to weasel out of her watchful gaze and get what he wanted.

“Okay,” she said to his immense surprise. “But what about our dinner date?”

He shrugged. “We have all week. How about Thursday?” Although it upset Peter to be cancelling on his aunt like that, just the mere thought of going to Mr. Stark’s on his birthday made him buzz in excitement.

She nodded without saying anything. “You think it’s a coincidence, him inviting you over on your birthday?” she asked, her eyes soft.

Despite Peter’s inner glee, he shrugged again, trying to play it cool. “He probably doesn’t even know when my birthday is.” Still, he suppressed a giddy smile.

May exhaled quietly as if in disbelief. “Of course he does, Peter.” She set her book down and closed it, not marking her page. “Look, I may have my issues with the man—” she held up her hands, stopping Peter from speaking when he opened his mouth to interrupt “—but it’s clear to me that you do matter to him, and he to you. If he has one humdrum thing in his whole house, I’m willing to bet it’s a wall calendar with your birthday circled.”

Peter ducked his head, embarrassed at the way his aunt had read him like that. Instead he chose to focus on something else she had said.

“Humdrum?” he scoffed, not really meaning it. “Who says that anymore?”

“Oh okay,” May said, picking her book back up, somehow knowing which page she had left off. “Get out of here, Spider-Boy.”

Peter laughed as he circled around the table and gave his aunt a light hug around the shoulders. She returned the gesture by squeezing his hand.

He returned to his room and closed his door, calling out “I’ll see you later!” before it shut behind him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't really know what I was doing with this one and I think my characterizations are kind of (really) off but this is my first Marvel fic so I'm still adjusting to them. Please forgive me!!
> 
> Either way I hope this is halfway decent, and don't forget I'm always welcome to requests/prompts on my [tumblr](http://rotjluke.tumblr.com/), thanks!!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The day of Peter's birthday has arrived.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm bad at summaries!! :( enjoy

The city below was hurrying along with its day, paying no mind to the red-clad individual swinging away hundreds of feet above them. At this point, he was a familiar, and (mostly) welcome sight.

As Peter shot another web and it stuck to the side of a building, the AI in his suit, Karen, spoke up. “Incoming call from Happy Hogan, Peter.” He glanced at the user interface inside his mask and saw Happy’s photo displayed before him, indicating he was waiting for Peter to pick up.

“Answer,” Peter said, and when he did, Happy’s photo was moved to the far corner of the mask’s UI, clearing up his field of vision. He decided to take the call standing still, and swung himself up onto the roof of the nearest building, crouching on the edge and waiting for Happy to speak.

“Peter,” Happy began, “where are you? I mean, I know where you are, but why are you out swinging around already? Actually,” he continued before Peter could answer, “doesn’t matter. Go home, get changed, I’ll meet you there. Mr. Stark wants to see you, remember?”

“Of course I remember, Happy,” Peter was finally able to say. “I was just getting in a bit of early hour justice first.”

Happy exhaled in what sounded a little like a laugh, but if it was, Peter didn’t say anything. “Okay kid, I’ll see you in twenty.” With that, Happy hung up.

Peter took a steep dive off the edge of the building, webbing onto another and bringing himself back up. He swung his way back to the alley in which he’d left his backpack of clothes, and tried not to let the excitement of going to Mr. Stark’s get to him. His elbows were shaking slightly as he rounded the corner out of the alley, tossing the backpack over his shoulders.

Every time he got to go to the new Avengers compound — and occasionally, Mr. Stark’s own residence — it felt like a new experience. The compound was, of course, an amazing sight to behold, but he rarely got to go there on account of him not being an “official” Avenger (yet). However, Mr. Stark let him train there or work in the lab from time to time, but Peter suspected that the man was just lonely. The odd time he’d been allowed to visit Mr. Stark at his own house — a slightly more humble place than Peter would have expected, situated outside the city and in sprawling countryside — it had been a proper treat, but again, Peter felt it was because Mr. Stark had just wanted some company on those occasions. They usually spent their time in the spectacularly outfitted lab, working on Peter’s suit or other projects Mr. Stark was allowed to show him. He never really needed Peter’s help, but seemed to ask for it a lot; Peter was always happy to oblige, of course.

When Peter finally approached his apartment building and hopped in the back of Happy’s car, he was greeted with the usual, “You’re late,” even though he was actually a minute early this time.

Peter only laughed and replied with, “Good to see you too, Happy,” as the man started the car and drove away from the building.

* * *

Tony stopped outside the front door to his house, his hand hovering above the door knob, and listened to the loud voices he could hear inside. Hesitantly, he placed his ear against the door, as if he’d be able to get a sense of what was happening inside his own home from that alone.

“Boss?” FRIDAY asked in his ear. 

Tony jumped and nearly dropped the small package he was carrying. He glared into the security camera that was situated adjacent the door.

“Sorry, boss,” she said. “You’re acting weird. Would you like me to call Miss Potts?”

“No,” he replied, finally turning the knob on the door. He stepped into the front entrance of his home, hung up his overcoat, and walked into the living room, where he saw —

Blue and red streamers were hanging from the ceiling and woven around the staircase banisters, and as Tony swept the room with his eyes, he saw Natasha and Pepper hanging up a banner that looked homemade and read _Happy Birthday Peter!_ above the fireplace.

Tony’s jaw almost hit the floor, but he gathered himself as the two redheads turned around and greeted him with matching grins. “Tony, I can’t believe you didn’t tell me about Peter’s birthday,” Pepper scolded, but she quickly changed her tune. “What do you think?” She swept an arm out, gesturing proudly to the room.

“I think…,” he said dumbly. “I think it’s … a lot. You know he’s … sixteen, right, not six?”

Natasha walked over and grabbed the small square box from Tony’s hands and asked, “What’s this?” Thankfully, she neglected to shake it as she passed it over to Pepper, who assessed it carefully.

“Is this the cake?” she asked. “It’s so little, Tony.”

“Hey, now —” he started, but whatever retort he was going to make didn’t come to him quick enough. “No,” he continued. “It’s not the cake.”

Pepper only frowned as she handed the box back to Tony, who clutched it to his chest. “Well, neither of us got him a cake.”

“Unbelievable, Tony,” Natasha chastised. “First no present, and now no cake?”

“He’ll live,” was all Tony replied with before leaving the two women and heading for his lab in the basement. He placed the box on the nearest table and went back upstairs.

Upon re-entering the living room, Tony went right to the couch and dropped onto it, suddenly very exhausted. “Fri, did you —”

“Invite Colonel Rhodes?” she finished for him. “Of course I did, boss. Although, he said he is very busy tonight, and asked to tell Peter happy birthday from him.” Tony groaned as if he’d just been given the worst news of his life.

“Stop whining, Tony,” Natasha said, coming over and sitting on the armrest of the couch. “Before you know it, you’ll be having a blast, Rhodes or no Rh—”

Before she could finish her sentence, the distinct sound of a car pulling up outside was heard. Tony didn’t move as he heard Pepper exclaim, “Oh, shit!” before running to turn off the living room lights. Natasha slid off the armrest of the couch — only to lie on top of Tony’s legs, which he moved out from under her, resisting the urge to shove her off. Pepper came running over just then, and crouched next to Tony, reflexively putting a hand on top of his head, which immediately quashed his plans of tossing Natasha off his couch.

They listened as the door opened and heard the sound of Happy’s trodding footsteps in the hallway, followed by the lighter, almost silent gait of Peter. The door shut and they could hear Peter saying, “Where’s Mr. Stark?” Happy didn’t answer, and a moment later the living room lights were back on —

Natasha and Pepper shot up from their crouching positions, shouting a gleeful, “Happy birthday, Peter!” Tony was surprised confetti didn’t fall from the ceiling, something he was sure Pepper would have been able to set up if she had put her mind to it.

* * *

Peter followed Happy through the front door of Mr. Stark’s house, giving his shoes a good wipe on the welcome mat once inside. He shut the door and asked Happy where Mr. Stark was, although the other man didn’t give him a response, only raised his eyebrows and pointed to the living room. Peter shrugged and followed where his finger was directed, stopping in his tracks when he saw the colorful streamers, and the banner above the fireplace —

Before he could properly process the scene before him, Pepper Potts and Natasha Romanoff jumped out from behind the couch, shouting, “Happy birthday, Peter!” Peter flinched at the sudden noise, but his eyes were wide in amazement.

He scanned the room for Mr. Stark, at last finding him when he decided to peek over the back of the couch, his eyebrows pushed together in — concern? An odd choice of emotion, Peter thought, but he didn’t linger on it for too long.

Mr. Stark eventually pushed himself off the couch and said as he approached Peter, “Hey, kid, I know it’s ridiculous, but I had nothing to do with the planning—”

Peter cut him off in a bone crushing hug, most likely breaking every code Mr. Stark had about personal space, but at that moment, Peter was just so eternally _grateful_ for what he saw before him. There were streamers hanging from the ceiling — for him. A banner had been made — for _him_! 

He felt Mr. Stark’s hands squeeze both of his shoulders reassuringly, then push him away. “Sorry, Mr. Stark — uh, I mean, thank you, this is great,” Peter managed, and if anyone noticed when he wiped his eyes and sniffed his nose quietly, they didn’t say anything, thankfully.

“Yes, well, of course it is,” Mr. Stark insisted, wrapping his arm around Peter’s shoulders and directing him to the couch. “It _was_ all my doing, after all.”

“Tony,” Pepper warned him.

“I had some help, I guess.” Mr. Stark fell onto the couch, bringing Peter down next to him. He felt the couch shift again as Pepper made herself comfortable on the other end.

Peter stared down at his hands in his lap, still surprised about the whole situation. Eventually he only repeated, in a small voice, “This is great, Mr. Stark. Thank you.”

Mr. Stark waved his hand that wasn’t around Peter’s shoulder, dismissing his thanks. “Seriously, it’s nothing.” He stood up from the couch and strode over to the kitchen. “What do you want to eat? I can have anything delivered, although it might take a minute to get here.”

“Uh, oh, jeez…,” Peter whispered to himself. The only thing on his mind at that moment was— “Pizza?” He felt his face start to burn and tried to raise his shoulders to hide himself, but naturally it didn’t work.

He heard Mr. Stark laugh fondly. “Of course,” he said. “FRIDAY, put in an order for my Saturday night special. The occasion calls for it, I think.”

“Already on it, boss,” the AI responded. 

“So anyway, in the meantime,” he heard Natasha finally pipe up. He looked around and found her sitting cross legged on the floor near the couch. “Hey, Peter.”

“Oh, uh—” he stammered. Peter couldn’t figure out why he was so nervous, he’d met Black Widow before, but maybe it was just seeing her so casual and ordinary, lounging in Tony Stark’s living room and smiling up at him that was the real shocker. The last time they’d met, it had been in Germany, and they hadn’t really gotten the chance to engage in small talk then.

“Relax, Spider-Kid,” she laughed. “I don’t bite.”

Mr. Stark came back into the room just then, a look of determination on his face. “Oh, yes she does.” Pepper smacked him upside the head as he reclaimed his place on the couch, nearly causing him to spill his drink.

“Ow, Pep, not like that,” he mumbled, rubbing the back of his head. “I know you do, though,” he continued as he took a sip from his drink, glancing at Pepper out of the corner of his eye. She neglected to respond, choosing instead to pinch his side, which did cause him to spill his drink on his shirt this time.

“Anyway, Peter, as those two do whatever the hell it is they’re doing,” Natasha said, drawing Peter’s attention away from the hushed bickering next to him, “do you want to see what I got you?”

Peter’s eyes widened in surprise as he asked, “You … got me something? For my birthday?”

“Of course I did.” Natasha sounded offended, although she was smiling gently. “I never show up to any kind of party without a gift.” Before Peter could say anything, Natasha stood up and bounded out of the room, coming back moments later with a small rectangle, wrapped in gold paper.

“Look, it’s not much, but I only had two days to think of something,” she said, handing him the present and shooting an accusing glare at Mr. Stark, who was still wrapped up in his conversation with Pepper. “But it’s something, at least.”

As Peter began to tear the paper, he heard Mr. Stark and Pepper stop talking and could feel them turn their attention to his task. When enough paper was loose, he took the gift out and — saw the back of a picture frame; it was backwards. He flipped it around and saw the picture it held.

Peter had no idea how Natasha had gotten a photo like this, but he was too shocked to ask. The photo depicted Mr. Stark and Peter working in the elder man’s lab on the Spider-Man suit, but instead of having caught a moment of severe concentration, it was one of elation; Mr. Stark’s head was thrown back in laughter, one hand on his chest and the other braced on the table in front of them. Peter himself was smiling brightly in the photo; he tried to recall the exact moment of the photo, but was unable to.

Despite how obviously embarrassing this was, he was grateful Natasha had given this to him.

“How did you get that?” Mr. Stark asked, pointing between the photo to Natasha and back. His tone sounded frustrated, but when Peter looked at his expression, it was only confused.

“I asked FRIDAY if she had taken any snapshots of the two of you,” Natasha replied simply. “She said, ‘Of course I have, who do you think I am?’ She thinks it’s great you’re finally getting to show your fatherly side, Tony.”

Peter felt his face heat up again when Natasha said that, but decided to keep any witty remarks to himself, as it was obvious Mr. Stark wasn’t too pleased about what she had just said. He only grumbled to himself as he sipped the last remaining drops of his drink, and nearly jumped a foot in the air off the couch when the doorbell rang, signalling the arrival of their dinner. “I got it!” he almost yelled.

As Mr. Stark got up and left the room, Peter turned to Natasha and said, “Thank you, Miss Ro—”

Natasha cut him off with a raised hand. “Hey, it’s Natasha,” she insisted. “And it was no problem. You’re a great kid, and you mean a lot to the tin man over there, so I thought you should have something to remind you of that.”

Peter didn’t have anything to say to that, instead turning back to the photo in his lap. 

* * *

Tony walked to the front door of his home, feeling his shirt stick to his chest with his spilled drink. He opened the door and took the food from the delivery person, paying for it and leaving them a large tip before walking back into the living room.

It wasn’t so much the picture he was disgruntled about, rather the fact that Natasha had presented her gift first and Peter had seemed to love it so much — if the kid got teary eyed over a candid of the two of them, Tony wasn’t sure what kind of reaction he was going to get from his gift.

Not like it was a big deal, he told himself as he set the boxes of food on the kitchen counter. If he gets misty eyed at Natasha’s, and Tony only gets a “thank you” in return, that would be more than fine. It wasn’t a competition. Really.

“No eating in the living room,” Tony said as everyone crowded around the island and Pepper handed out plates. “That couch is worth more than your apartment, kiddo.”

“I don’t doubt that,” was Peter’s only response as he piled his plate with food.

Tony ate in relative silence between Peter and Pepper, listening to the other three talk excitedly. As the laughter at one of Natasha’s stories died down, Tony said, “I’ll be right back,” and he pushed off from the table, making swiftly for the staircase that led into his basement lab.

He hadn’t taken the time to wrap the present, instead just putting it in a simple, white cardboard box and attached a little card to the top that said, _You deserve it._ Tony snatched up the box and returned to the main floor, ignoring Natasha and Peter’s curious stares, and Pepper’s knowing smile.

“Here,” Tony said curtly, offering the box to Peter. He didn’t retake his seat, choosing instead to stand and rock back on his heels nervously. He felt Pepper’s hand on the small of his back, a reassuring touch.

Peter didn’t say anything as he read the small card on top, but Tony could see the smile he was holding back. The boy pushed his fingers through the folds in the box, opening it to reveal what was inside.

It was a wristwatch, not unlike Tony’s own, only with slightly fewer capabilities; although, they would be easy to add if desired. This particular watch, however —

“It can replace one of your web-shooters,” Tony began when Peter didn’t say anything. “The strap expands and — well, you probably get it already; it acts exactly like one of the shooters. It does a bunch of other stuff too, but that’s its primary hidden function.”

Peter was turning the small glass box that held the watch, examining it from all sides as if worried it would disappear at any moment. Tony rolled his eyes and continued, wishing the boy would speak soon.

“I have one too.” Tony showed Peter his right wrist and the similar watch that sat on it. “Except, mine’s cooler, obviously.” He tapped the watch a few times and motioned down his hand with the other, and heard Peter gasp as Tony’s hand was enveloped in a red metal glove.

“Yours can’t do that, but maybe eventually,” he finished as he tapped the watch a few more times and the glove disappeared back inside it.

It was silent for a few aching moments, before Peter finally said, “We have friendship bracelets.” He turned and beamed up at Tony.

“Oh God, I’m taking it back,” he groaned, reaching halfheartedly for the glass box, but Peter moved it out of his reach.

“Please—” His voice was serious, even though Tony had no actual intention of reclaiming the watch. “Thank you, Mr. Stark. This is the best birthday I’ve ever had.” He stared down at the watch as if it were made of the rarest material on the planet.

Tony put an arm across Peter’s shoulders and squeezed gently. “It was nothing, kid,” he said. “And for crying out loud, call me Tony already.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry this took so long, i've been actually working on another story (and reading comics, _but_ ), and the working title is "ironfamily"!! i haven't decided if it'll be chaptered or a series of oneshots in a larger work but i'm going to try to finish it before posting it, a technique i've been working on for quite literally years... i want it to be perfect :)
> 
> anyway this is cheesy as hell and i'm still kind of _hmm_ about it but either way i hope it's!! acceptable. also sorry no rhodey i was too eager to finish this and did it before i remembered him :(
> 
> ok!! anyway this was pretty fun. in the meantime i have a [tumblr](http://rotjluke.tumblr.com/) where i will gladly take requests!! and thank you for all your comments and kudos!! <3


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